A Fun-Filled Quidditch Match
[To take place shortly after this journal entry and this note posted by Draco in his journal, made viewable to everybody]

Draco arrived at the pitch around 7:20 or so that evening, knowing that he'd want to be there early before anyone else showed up. A school practice broom was in his hands, something that Draco never truly thought he'd have to use again. His fingers tightened on the hard, almost torn wood, wishing that he could have his own Firebolt back. It had been so smooth, so perfect, to fly on the Firebolt. Sighing tiredly, Draco leaned against one of the bleacher stands of the pitch and gazed upward at the setting sun as he waited for others to arrive. He could only hope that even at least Harry would show, but some how, Draco expected the Gryffindor to actually make an appearance that evening. Quidditch was at least one thing that could bring them together, and perhaps it could be Quidditch that could help others trust him more.